Vesta followed the vertical rainbow even as night dampened the skies, and mists rose up to cloud her vision.

She had chased it for miles, snapping pictures with her camera of the rainbow between earth and heaven. No pot of gold necessary.

She knew if she stood in it’s stream of colours, she would be cleansed, freed of the visions and voices that haunted her.

The bitter and the blood of her past and present would disperse, flowing upwards/downwards.

Like all things in her life, the vertical rainbow remained just out of reach, over the next hill, down in the next valley as Vesta struggled.

Continue reading here: #writephoto: anomaly: Vesta’s Rainbow